


kiss me twice, once is not enough

by fairyslush



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Childhood Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, cheesy shit about the seasons, insufferable writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyslush/pseuds/fairyslush
Summary: he falls for him like blossoms in the spring,like rain in the summer,like leaves in fall,like snow in the winter.this is a story of love in every season.for approximate moonlight.





	kiss me twice, once is not enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catastrophes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catastrophes/gifts).



> before anything else, please humor me by pretending you had no idea who wrote this.
> 
> inspired by utada hikaru's 誓い (don't think twice). please give it a listen before and after you read.

he meets him in shades of pinks and blues, under rays of sunny gold.

it is springtime in the empire. the cherry blossoms line the palace courtyard, and seongwoo walks with his meister to meet the prince he is tasked to serve. the sun’s rays beautifully filters through the pale pink blooms, casting artful shadows against those who walk on the dusty road.

“this is his _majesty_ , hwang minhyun,” the meister begins, gesturing to the youthful royal. seongwoo bows, deep and formal, yet his eyes subtly stay on the boy before him.

one glance. it takes but one glance for seongwoo to know that the young prince, clad in regal blues amidst the pale pink canvas, is what writers see when they speak about _beauty_.

“i am ong seongwoo,” he motions when he is allowed to speak, a bright smile curled upon his lips. the young prince returns his gesture with a nod, and seongwoo keeps the given grin safe where his heart is. “it will be my pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

“there is no need to speak so _formally_ ,” minhyun quips, his tone lilting as he speaks. “i have heard that we are of the same age—did you also turn _twelve_ in the new year?”

“mhm,” seongwoo nods, humming his affirmation. “but, i think it would be quite _improper_ if—” his gaze flits between the prince and the adults that surround them. “—i just drop all formalities when this is the first time we are meeting.”

minhyun seems to take his cues, gesturing for his attendants, as well as the meister, to leave.

“if i could speak with him _alone,_ please,” he requests with the intensity of an order. seongwoo wonders how such a delicate face could command such power.

the attendants leave with a simple bow to their prince, while the meister pats seongwoo’s back—half encouragement and half warning. soon, they are by themselves, surrounded only by the cherry trees that sway gently with the spring time breeze.

“you’re _beautiful_ ,” seongwoo blurts out, almost too suddenly, but the giggle that escapes the other’s lips makes him lose any sense of embarrassment. “really, it’s like looking at a _fairy_.”

“you’re funny,” minhyun replies, a finger curled upon his chin, his eyes turning into amused little crescents. “you’re here to _advise_ me, not flatter me, as far as i remember.”

“i believe i am skilled enough to do _both_ ,” the scholar banters, his own visage scrunching into an expression of endearment. “besides, that wasn’t flattery. i was only telling the truth.”

“of course,” the prince nods, humming his amusement into the wind.

the wind sings to fill the silence that builds between the two handsome youths.

“my dear advisor,” minhyun sing-songs, breaking the silence first, as it is only proper. seongwoo tries not to grin at the slight term of endearment attached to his title. “what are your plans for me?”

seongwoo blinks at the sudden question, but he is not a skilled scholar for nothing, and he is a child eager to show his worth.

“well, _your majesty_ ,” he begins, hands folded behind his form. “i’ll make you the best emperor history has ever known.”

his smug grin deflates at the prince’s ringing laughter.

“how lofty,” minhyun comments in between a fit of chuckles. “you’re quite the dreamer.”

“isn’t that what i’m supposed to do?” seongwoo blinks thrice for good measure. minhyun shakes his head no.

“mhm,” the prince hums, his hues twinkling with a message seongwoo longs to decipher. “i think it’s most important that you’re always by my side.”

a gust of wind brings a flurry of blooms, a shower of petals for the beginning of an oath.

“then by your side i’ll stay,” seongwoo answers, a hand to his heart to signal sincerity. “your majesty.”

“ _please_ ,” minhyun takes two steps forward, and the scholar gasps at how breathtaking he is up close. “just call me minhyun when we are alone.”

 

* * *

 

_in the summer, you shine like the sun._

“this is too cheesy,” seongwoo mutters, back hunched over stacks of parchment on the little study in his provided room. “the content should be beyond this level, at least.”

spring melts into the early beginnings of summer, and the young scholar hones his penchant for writing poetry. brush in hand and the beautiful prince in his mind, he does what he can to try and make his words dance on paper.

_a sparkling face that beats out all the constellations._

_you are the ocean in which i’d like to drown._

“ah, this is too hard,” the boy whines, tapping his lip with the wooden tip of his brush. “he’s too _pretty_ for words—this is almost impossible.”

he peels off the top-most piece of parchment from the stack, crumples it up, and throws it to the growing pile at the side of the room.

“what are you doing?”

“writing a poem,” seongwoo answers, barely even looking up from what he is doing. he’s quite sure that it’s only his meister who will visit him this late in the afternoon, so he doesn’t even bother to lift his brush from the parchment. “i want to give something to _minhyunnie_.”

“you call the _prince_ by such an endearment? how gutsy of you.”

the realization is immediate; seongwoo turns from his work and bows in apology, the clattering of brushes and the crumpling of paper being the cacophonic background to the entire ruckus.

“i am so sorry!”  the scholar’s forehead almost meets the ground with the intensity of his atonement. “i wasn’t thinking when i said that and i—”

a string of all-too-familiar chuckles makes him backtrack his apologetic litanies.

“ _minhyunnie_!” seongwoo yells, eyes-wide as he straightens his back, his expression that of utter betrayal. the prince looks unfazed; amused, mostly. “you scared me!”

“did i?” minhyun quips, eyes crinkled into cheeky little crescents. “you seemed quite preoccupied with your work—i couldn’t help but tease a little.”

“how mean,” seongwoo motions with a pout, arms crossing over his chest. he scoots over to the side to make space for the intruding royal.  “i really thought you were the meister.”

“was i _that_ convincing?” minhyun queries, eyes filled with mischief as he takes the space next to his future advisor. “perhaps, aside from being an emperor, i could do well as an entertainer too.”

seongwoo squints before he speaks. “and waste the chance to be called the most beautiful emperor this empire has ever seen? no thank you.”

“still quite the flatterer, aren’t you?” minhyun hits the boy with a playful nudge. “on that note, you said you were writing a _poem._ ”

seongwoo grows red from his cheeks to his ears.

“for _me_ , specifically.”

the sound of crumpling parchment fills the little room as seongwoo makes haste in hiding his latest creations.

“i-i did! but they’re incomplete,” he stutters on his excuses, clutching the parchment close to his chest. “i—i’d prefer you see them when they’re in… _better_ condition.”

“oh please,” minhyun pushes, a small pout forming on his lips. “just _one._ read just one of it for me.”

“but—”

“ _please_?”

seongwoo curses his young heart for being weak to the twinkle in the prince’s eyes.

“i— _fine,_ ” his agreement is half-hearted, but the simple affirmation makes minhyun _glow_ and seongwoo forgets how it feels to be embarrassed. “promise you won’t laugh, okay?”

“i promise,” minhyun nods, giddy with anticipation.

the young scholar takes a deep breath before fishing out the most decent one from his pile of crumpled parchment. he chews on his bottom lip, pupils quivering as he reads one cheesy line after another, and almost— _almos_ t!—tells minhyun to come visit on another day when he is more prepared. but, the waiting gaze the prince gives him fills his chest with enough courage to begin, and he exhales in an attempt to steel his nerves.

“ _in the summer, you shine like the sun_ ,” seongwoo is on the first verse, but minhyun already looks like he’s about to burst into a fit of giggles.

beyond his better judgement, the scholar hits the prince on his knee, a sort of sulking reprimand.

“you said you wouldn’t laugh!” he accuses, brows furrowed at the chuckling royal. “i don’t want to do this anymore.”

he sets the parchment back on the table, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child whining over a lost bet.

“sorry, sorry,” minhyun rubs his hands in apology, yet there are tears pricking the corners of his eyes in his utter glee. “it’s just that—the _sun_? i would _love_ to spend one day looking at myself with those eyes of yours.”

“but i’m only writing the truth,” seongwoo motions with a pout, choosing to hug his knees close to his chest as he scoots next to the prince clad in blue. “you _do_ shine like the sun.”

“are you referring to the castle gossip about the size of my head?”

“no!” seongwoo rejects the very idea in a most vehement manner. “it’s not—i—”

“i was only teasing,” minhyun snorts, taking the chance to flick the bumbling scholar on his exposed forehead. “it amuses me that you see me this way—so pristine, so _immaculate_.”

confusion paints seongwoo’s features, but everything melts once the prince leans against his shoulder. the afternoon sky is in hues of orange and purple, the kind that poets always wax about, but seongwoo thinks that the boy beside him is still a thousand times more worthy of beautiful words.

“ _tomorrow_ ,” he mutters, and minhyun shifts to look at him with questioning eyes. “come by tomorrow. i’ll have a finished poem that i can read for you.”

the prince hums, riding on the silence that envelopes their pair as they watch the setting sun.

 

* * *

rain heralds the end of spring and the beginning of summer.

“ha- _hachoo_!”

little droplets of rain slide against the foliage, refreshed from the summertime shower. the sun peeks out from its hiding place behind the clouds, its golden rays filtering through the leaves and right into the castle’s open windows.

seongwoo squints on his bed, sniffling from the aftermath of a sneeze. his wool blanket is pulled up to his chin, barely doing anything to fight the cold that sends shivers down his form.

“i _told_ you it was unnecessary,” minhyun blows on a spoon of hot porridge before placing it near seongwoo’s lips. seongwoo pouts, narrowing his eyes at the hot goop, but appreciates the warmth that seeps through his bones with one spoonful. “i had attendants with parasols for the rain, you did not have to run to the courtyard as you did.”

the scholar groans. his memory is too clear, and the tips of his ears burn from embarrassment.

(it was the first rain of summer. strong torrents fall from dark clouds in the grey sky.

seongwoo waits for minhyun’s carriage by the pavilion, eyes trained on the gates for any sign of his horses.

_click-clack-click_

the ornate castle gates spring open and the pitter-pat of hooves echo on the courtyard road. in his excitement, seongwoo runs from the pavilion to the carriage, his cloak raised to shield himself from the rain. the carriage doors open, the attendants alighting first to aid their prince from his descent.

minhyun is ethereal amidst the rain drops, but it’s his look of surprise that stays in seongwoo’s mind.

“what are you doing?” the prince asks, brows furrowed in concern. “you’re _wet_!”

a bashful chuckle tumbles out of seongwoo’s lips. “i—i was excited to see his majesty.”

minhyun sighs, exasperated. beside them, the attendants open bamboo parasols to shield both boys from the downpour.

“let’s go inside,” the prince leads with a soft gesture, but seongwoo acknowledges the power in the graceful wave of his hand. “you’re going to get sick like this.”

seongwoo’s bashful chuckle creates a harmony with the pitter patter of the storm.

“i won’t!” he motions with a grin, wide and bright and sunny. “i’m _ong seongwo_ o!”)

“ha-choo!”

another sneeze sends the scholar doubling over, his eyes watering from irritation. beside him, with a half-finished bowl of porridge, minhyun shakes his head, sighing.

“i still don’t understand why you had to run out of the rain to greet me,” the prince scolds, though his tone remains gentle. “you could’ve waited by the pavilion and saved yourself from this cold.”

seongwoo doesn’t answer. instead, he groans, pulling the blanket over his head.

“seongwoo.” minhyun coaxes, but the scholar does not budge.

with another heavy sigh, minhyun places the bowl on the bedside table, reaching over to soothe the boy by putting a hand on his forehead.

“you’re burning up,” minhyun notes, brows furrowed in worry. “you need to drink medicine. i’ll have them send the doctor over to have a good look at you.”

seongwoo groans from underneath the blankets, hoisting himself up as much as he could to chase the coolness of minhyun’s hand.

“don’t move too much,” the prince scolds. “you need to re—”

“fairy kisses.”

minhyun blinks from the sudden interruption.

“ _fairy kisses_?”

“mhm.” seongwoo nods, his eyes glazed from fever-induced delirium. “i heard they have healing properties.”

on cue, the scholar’s eyes flutter to a close, his lips puckered up and expecting.

“you’re _delirious_ ,” minhyun sighs, arranging his robes to prepare to stand. “i’ll get the doctor.”

“wait—” seongwoo grabs the ends of his robe, and minhyun quirks a brow at the sudden act. “don’t—don’t _leave_ —” little tear drops prick at his hues, and minhyun thinks that the fever might be worse than he has initially suspected. “i don’t wa—”

with haste, the prince presses a soft kiss at the corner of seongwoo’s lips, sending the scholar into stunned silence as he slowly rearranges himself back onto the bed. minhyun doesn’t make eye contact as he replaces the blanket on the feverish boy.

“i won’t leave,” he assures, and seongwoo thinks he must’ve hallucinated the pink blooming upon his cheeks. “i just need to tell the attendants to send the doctor in.”

seongwoo sinks back under the blankets, his face feeling especially warm, especially the spot the fairy-like prince has blessed with a soft, fairy-like kiss.

“get well soon, okay?” he hears the young prince mutter, barely above a whisper. “lessons feel so _empty_ without you.”

 

***

 

“ha-choo!”

the downpour has halted. the sun’s rays shine majestically on the empire, its golden rays filtering through the leaves and right into the castle’s open windows.

minhyun squints on his bed, sniffling from the aftermath of a sneeze. by his bedside is a grinning seongwoo, looking refreshed and renewed, a bowl of half-eaten porridge on his lap, his hand tight against the wooden spoon.

“so,” the scholar begins, mischief twinkling in his bright hues.  “ _fairies_ can get sick too?”

the prince’s glare is enough to fell a general from his steed, but seongwoo’s grin remains bright under its intensity.

“shut up.”

 

* * *

 

“i’m doing an e _xperiment_.”  seongwoo exclaims, haphazardly sliding the doors to minhyun’s chambers open, one arm busy with a pile of tomes and parchment. “i need you to participate.”

the prince barely looks up from the delicate blooms littering his little study, his fingers preoccupied with a yellow camellia. seongwoo is not deterred by the apathetic reaction, taking the available space beside the royal and setting down his things on whatever is left of the wooden surface. the scholar opens a scroll, filled to the edges with sketches and writing.

 _a thesis on fairy kisses,_ one of the paragraphs read.

minhyun continues on with adding baby’s breath to his little bouquet.

“you see,” seongwoo begins, looking quite academic in his inquiry despite the rather otherworldly topic. “i was doing preliminary research on _fairy kisses_.”

minhyun’s hands pause for a second, in time with the quirk of his brow. but, he does not speak, so the scholar takes this as his signal to continue.

“i’ve experienced _firsthand_ that fairy kisses have healing properties,” seongwoo explains, and he smirks at the faint red that begins to prick at the tips of minhyun’s ears. “i want to do a further look on what other magical things they can do.”

it is there that the prince’s hands finally stop with their ministrations (seongwoo thinks that the camellia has tired of being moved from three different spots in a span of two minutes) to properly acknowledge the scholar’s presence. his face, seongwoo notes, is etched with annoyed disbelief.

“it’s been over a month, seongwoo,” he half-scolds, looking quite exasperated. “a _month_.”

“a scholar’s work does not have a time limit,” seongwoo defends, jutting out his bottom lip in protest. “i needed to gather _resources_ , find proof, finalize my thesis, before conducting the rigorous analysis.” a pause, a cheeky grin. “which, of course, means interviewing _you_.”

minhyun’s eyes narrow, but he lets any annoyance out in a rather deep sigh.

“why do you keep calling me a _fairy_ , anyway?” he asks, his hands returning to their previous work. seongwoo watches as the poor camellia is again moved to another location. “you’ve called me that for too many times than i can count—is it a fantasy of yours?”

“well, you’re _beautiful_ ,” seongwoo answers, blunt and with finality. a small burst of satisfaction blooms in his chest at the pink that dusts minhyun’s cheeks. “besides, you are going to be emperor. you’re practically a celestial being already—you might just have fairy blood in you.”

the prince shakes his head, a half-hearted snort tumbling out of his system.

“well then,” he turns to the scholar, his smile long-suffering. “what about fairy kisses?”

“ah, yes, fairy kisses,” it is there that seongwoo begins to blush, his eyes frantically searching for the “data” written on his scroll. “well, i was hoping i could get another demonstration and—”

“just say it straight if you want to _kiss_ me.” minhyun interrupts, turning so he is face to face with the scholar. “stop making it seem like you’re doing research when all you want is—”

“no!” seongwoo protests, his face as red as the birds of paradise in minhyun’s little pile of blooms. “it’s for _science_ —for the furthering of knowledge!”

minhyun’s brows knit in annoyance. “then _get out._ i have a bouquet to fi—”

“ _okay_!” it is the scholar who interrupts this time, his cheeks practically bursting in color. “i want a kiss. i want a _fairy kiss_.” he confesses, his eyes unable to look at the ethereal royal before him.

“i told you—” minhyun’s expression is vague, unreadable. “i’m not a—”

“i want _minhyun’s_ kiss.”

it happens quickly. minhyun sighs, obviously exasperated by the sudden outburst, and seongwoo’s fists clench on his lap as he wallows in his own embarrassment. his eyes are shut tight, half of his head wishing for nothing but to be swallowed by the floor boards, but he dares to take a peek when the silence becomes too much, and the last thing he sees is the prince’s face, much too close for his comfort, before everything fades into fireworks.

minhyun is sweet, seongwoo discovers, and the softness of the prince’s lips against his own is enough to make every other worry ebb away into oblivion. his nose scrunches at the lingering scent of flowers that tickles his nostrils, the notes of jasmine in the other boy’s hair, the fresh smell of clean, soft skin.

outside, the sun shines its brightest in the summer’s high noon, but the flowers that blossom in seongwoo’s heart rivals any of the empire’s spring times.

it is the prince who pulls away first, and seongwoo, eyes still fluttered close, chases the warmth of touch like a moth to a light source. instead of lips, though, his mouth meets two fingers, and he opens his eyes to a minhyun with a saucy smirk playing on his lips.

“is that enough for your research?” he asks, his tone teasing.

seongwoo blinks himself back to reality. “i wasn’t _ready_!” he whines, petulant.

“you’re _really_ just looking for more excuses to kiss me.”

“no! i told you, it’s for _science_ and i—”

this time, minhyun grabs the whining scholar by the side of his face, pulling him close for another gentle osculation. the prince moves so their lips would meld properly together, and seongwoo gasps at the newfound sensation. the scholar’s hands travel from his own lap to minhyun’s waist, pulling the boy closer to his form, almost as if any space would prove a disturbance to his cause.

“enough?” minhyun breathes, resting his forehead against seongwoo’s when they finally remember that they still needed to breathe. “or do you require—”

this time, it is seongwoo who interrupts, catching his lips for another gentle inquiry.

 

***

 

the sunset paints his study in shades of brown, orange, and yellow.

seongwoo tucks in the filled scroll into one of his deeper drawers, before fishing out a fresh one from his pile. brush in hand, he begins to write about his conclusions, his fingers absent-mindedly travelling to his lips in an attempt to halt the tingling quivers.

 _fairy kisses,_ he writes, his ears red as his mind replays his previous “inquiry.” _have more use beyond healing properties, and what not._

his brush moves with even strokes, his writing legible despite the (comfortable) chaos in his mind.

_they can ignite a flame that may be impossible to put out._

_a brightness that cannot be darkened._

 

* * *

 

the empire is _feverish_ with the heat of celebration. it is the first week of august, and it is a special day as it is both the prince’s coming of age ceremony and his coronation. the palace, of course, has decided to dedicate an entire week for the festivities, and tonight marks the most important part of the entire ruckus—the time when the young prince finally steps into the role of emperor.

seongwoo finds himself stuck in the middle of everything, though not unwillingly. as if it was a stroke of fate, his coming of age is also set on the same month, and the court was generous enough to give him the privilege of celebrating along with their beloved prince. of course, his own ceremony would be muted compared to the festival that has been launched in minhyun’s name, but the scholar thinks that it is more than enough to have the chance to celebrate together.

he sits in minhyun’s chambers, watching as the ethereal royal exchanges his princely blues for the crimson silks of an emperor. he himself is wearing an ensemble of grey silk with a _gat_ placed primly on his head, a mirror image to the one the prince is currently wearing. but he knows, in the height of the ceremony, minhyun’s _gat_ will be shed in favor of an _ikseongwan,_ beautifully embroidered with the sigil of the empire, personalized and set for their new emperor.

“you’re beautiful,” seongwoo praises, his eyes twinkling with admiration as he watches two attendants fasten the belts around minhyun’s waist. “a most _ethereal_ emperor, if i must say.”

“and you _always_ say that,” minhyun banters, letting out a half-chuckle, half-snort at the flattery. “it was the first thing you said to me too, on the day we first met.”

“only because it rings true,” seongwoo beams, full of pride. “and it _always_ will.”

 

***

 

the crowd claps and cheers as minhyun takes his rightful place on the throne. the minister removes the ceremonial _gat_ and replaces it with the empire’s _ikseongwan_ , to the thunderous applause of the masses. the dowager queen stands proudly behind her son, looking regal in spite of her age, her sharp eyes commanding attention even in the background.

 _it’s where he got it,_ seongwoo thinks from his own space at the side of the court.

“long live the emperor!” the minister yells, and seongwoo watches how minhyun stands, regal and solid, a rightful ruler for a thriving empire. “long live emperor hwang minhyun!”

the crowd cheers, and seongwoo claps along. he sees minhyun look to his direction so he gives a small nod of acknowledgement, before smoothly disappearing as the festivities pick up.

there were thousands in his corner, but seongwoo knows that minhyun’s smile was for him.

 

***

 

“ _what are you doing_?”

seongwoo sighs at the familiarity of the situation, a fond memory of spring ringing through his conscious with how the moment is arranged. on cue, he answers—

“writing a _poem_ ,” he muses, and he feels minhyun smile before he even turns to see it. “for _minhyunnie_.”

the prince—nay— _emperor_ chuckles as he takes the empty space beside his official advisor, the crumpling reds of his many robes looking quite intense under the candle light.

“your majesty,” seongwoo greets, mischief in his hues despite his formal tone.

“i _told_ you,” minhyun begins, his tone filled with hints of scolding. “ _minhyun_ will suffice when we are outside of prying eyes—even now.”

seongwoo hums, swaying to one as he takes a good look at his emperor.

“i don’t think i can call you a _fairy_ anymore,” he exclaims, and minhyun’s brow raises in surprise.

“why not?” the emperor blinks, and seongwoo would like to assume that it is offense that is etched in his sharp features. “do you no longer think i’m beautiful?”

the advisor snorts, shaking his head to dispel any worry. “you’re _breathtaking_ , minhyun.”

“then why?”

for a moment, seongwoo wills himself to look thoughtful, quite enjoying the confused panic that paints minhyun’s face. it’s not every day that he sees the emperor in such a condition, after all.

“i _think_ ,” he pauses for dramatics, a finger curled around his chin. “i have come to accept that you’re _real_ , and not a grand manifestation of my most vivid daydreams.”

minhyun hits him with a whine, but seongwoo thinks that the shy grin he sees is worth it.

silence follows their rowdy banter, the rustling of the summer wind being the only harmony to their breathing. the candlelight flickers and fades in intervals, casting shadows against their handsome figures. it was only yesterday when they were still considered boys, children at the mercy of the empire’s eyes. but today marks their coming of age, and minhyun is now an _emperor_ , not a prince, and seongwoo is bound to him as his closest, most dependable _advisor_.

“your present,” it is minhyun who breaks the silence, fishing an ornate wooden box out of one of his sleeve pockets. seongwoo blinks, taking the compartment with careful hands, admiring the delicate carving along the rectangular encasement. “before i forget.”

seongwoo inhales, anticipating and excited. with delicate fingers, he cautiously takes off the thin lid, revealing an elegant jade brush made with deer hair. with a gasp, seongwoo removes the brush from its velvet bed, holding it to the light to allow the precious stone to glow.

“it’s beautiful,” he finally comments, his eyes fixated on the intricate ornament. “i—i don’t know if i—" a pause, mostly to collect his own thoughts. “thank you. i will cherish this.”

“you are most welcome,” minhyun replies, his grin satisfied. “i’d buy you ten more if it means buying your silence.”

he knows it is a joke, but seongwoo still does his best to look absolutely offended. minhyun, of course, is unfazed.

“ah!” as if remembering something important, seongwoo stands to search his drawers for a specific tome, hastily flipping through the pages for what seemed like a bookmark of sorts. eager, he hands the small slip to the emperor, his grin bright despite the simplicity of his offer.

“hm?” minhyun hums, eyeing the slip before taking it between his fingers. it’s a thin strip of cardboard stock, with dried pink petals pressed unto it’s surface. he flips it over to reveal delicate writing—a poem of sorts, or a dedication for a gift. “and this is...?”

“a _poem,_ ” seongwoo replies, going back to his former seat. “or more accurately, a _bookmark_ with a poem written behind it, and pressed cherry blossoms on the face.”

“i can see that,” minhyun nods, inspecting the little slip with curious wonder. “cherry blossoms?”

“from the first day we met,” he answers, pride in his tone. “and one petal from every spring we spent together.”

minhyun’s eyes widen in amazement, before flipping the strip over to read the dedication.

“ _you shine as bright as the summer sun_ ,” the emperor begins, before a snort escapes out of his system. “a _s immaculate as winter snow_ —oh _my_ , is this the one you…?”

seongwoo nods, bashful, his ears growing red with every line minhyun recites.

“ _i fall for you like leaves in autumn, and my heart blooms like flowers in spring._ ”

“don’t laugh,” seongwoo pouts, nudging minhyun’s knee with his foot. “i tried really hard.”

“ _i hope to be part of every page of your story_ ,” minhyun finishes his spoken word, and seongwoo would see a most beautiful smile on his lips if only he isn’t too afraid to look.

“i’m sorry,” seongwoo mumbles, chewing on his bottom lip as he scratches behind his neck—a nervous habit. “i don’t really get enough allowance to get you anything grand and—"

“i love it,” minhyun interrupts, and seongwoo startles at their sudden closeness. “i love y—"

the sliding doors open to reveal an apologetic attendant, hastily telling the newly crowned emperor that the dowager queen is looking to have a word with him, before scampering away.

silent blinking heralds the stream of chuckles that come once the doors have been closed.

“ _go_ ,” seongwoo motions, his soft smile made even gentler by the low light. “you have the rest of the night to finish your se—"

he is cut-off by lips crashing against his, but minhyun is already by the door when his brain wakes up to register it as a kiss.

“the night is meant for _sleeping,_ ” he begins, a cheeky glint obvious in his hues. seongwoo gulps at the underlying implications. “but perhaps i could make an exception for you.”

the door closes with a low thud, and seongwoo stares at the wooden frame, blushing and dumbfounded.

 

* * *

 

minhyun takes on the crown with ease, almost as if the throne was made solely for him. seongwoo watches on the side, his held fan mostly used for show, his face calm as he looks over the citizens in need who have filed for an audience. usually, it is a conflict in barter or a mishap between a married couple—it is rare that the castle holds court for anything beyond the mundane.

today, seongwoo looks at the ethereal ruler, admiration pooling in his dark hues. minhyun’s features exhibit a cold calmness, but the young advisor knows of the fire that lays beneath.

a couple brings their sick child into court. they look quite young, barely of age in seongwoo’s eyes, and their clothes are worn from the wear and tear of everyday labor. the babe is snug in her mother’s arms, cheeks flushed and sweating from a high fever. the father’s eyes are hard, but his posture is devoid of any pride.

 _this is their last resort,_ seongwoo thinks, and he takes two steps forth to watch the court unfold.

“we have no more coin for medicine,” the father begins, his eyes not meeting the emperor’s own. “her fever is not going down, and our house is by the saw mills.”

 “any help you can give will suffice, your majesty,” now it is the mother who speaks, cradling her daughter close to her bosom. “our dearest child is much to _young_ to be lost to sickness.”

minhyun is silent, his expression unchanging. seongwoo’s gaze flits between the ruler and the couple in court. he hums, his fan moving in a slow rhythm as he waits.

“giving coin is out of custom for the court,” minhyun begins, and seongwoo winces inwardly as he watches all hope drain from the begging couple. “you are well aware of this, correct?”

the couple nods, their gazes trained towards the floor.

“however, there is a doctor near the edge of the town who owes favors to the empire.” with a graceful move, the young emperor gestures for his attendant to come forward, and the young lady hands a sealed parchment to the father of the babe. “show him this seal and he will grant you service without any cost.”

hope blooms in the couple’s hearts, and seongwoo notes that the room has turned a shade brighter.

“thank you, your majesty,” the mother rises to her feet, her smile wide as her eyes fill with grateful tears. “you are as _kind_ as you are beautiful.”

seongwoo fights back a small smile of agreement. minhyun simply nods to her gratitude, waving the flattery off with a graceful hand. 

“you, mister,” he gestures to the father, who straightens up upon being acknowledged. “what do you do for a living?”

“i work in the saw mills.” the man answers, and seongwoo notes how he swallows down his nerves. “i gather wood as well as prepare them for sale.”

seongwoo quirks a brow at his better, yet he has an idea about what he plans to do,

“the castle has been low on stablemen,” the emperor offers, and seongwoo stifles a small chuckle at the rather predictable action. “should you decide to look for other employment while your daughter recovers, those who work under the crown are provided food and shelter.”

it takes a nudge from his wife for the man to wake from his initial shock at the generous offer.

“that would be wonderful,” he exclaims, his tone dripping with thanks. “we are indebted to you.”

again, minhyun waves it off with a polite hand. the couple bow until they are out of sight.

the day passes on like this. court ends a bit before tea time, and seongwoo manages to convince minhyun to spend it with him by the hidden gardens at the far end of the castle.

to the empire, the emperor is a man of many sides.

to some, he is as cold and ruthless as the winter winds. with a honed political instinct, the young emperor is able to discern between good and bad negotiations, with seongwoo providing minimal aid as his scholarly advisor. to others, he is as warm as the summer time sun, with a heart that is as beautiful as his features. the scene at court is a stark example.

 _it’s polarizing_ , seongwoo thinks. but he believes he is privileged to be able to see the spring after the winter melts, or the slight bend of an autumnal tree after the summer has passed.

today, at tea time, minhyun leans on his shoulder like a reed bowing from strong winds.

today, at tea time, seongwoo thinks he is the luckiest man in the empire, nay, the _world_.

“are you tired?” the scholar asks, his fingers gently threading through the emperor’s soft locks. “there was quite a number seeking court, don’t you think?”

in answer, minhyun nuzzles further against the crook of his neck, groaning softly in faux irritation.

“please refrain from asking obvious questions, my love.” he teases, his eyes fluttered to a close, his head craning towards seongwoo’s touch. “the silence is much more preferable.”

“you call me _that_ and tell me to shut up in one sentence,” seongwoo jokes, giddy from the blatant endearment. “what a cruel emperor you are.”

“that’s not what the lady said,” minhyun sing-songs, his tone drowsy. “but _really_ , please do hush up. i am trying to fall asleep, but it’s hard amidst all your muttering.”

the small whine makes seongwoo chuckle, but he moves so that minhyun can instead lay on his lap, his fingers still weaving soothing patterns on his scalp.

to the empire, the emperor is a man of many sides.

to seongwoo, the emperor is a man who he completely, irrevocably loves.

for a while, only the sound of wind provides a harmony to their comfortable silence. seongwoo treasures these little moments, where they can shed off their titles and exist solely as _them_.

he leans on the wooden bench, eyes on the thick foliage, on the shades of brown and red and orange from the tail end of autumn. it is almost unnoticeable, but seongwoo sees the little white drops fall from the sky and settle on the drying branches. he blinks, just to confirm that he isn’t hallucinating, a smile curling upon his lips as he gently taps the emperor to a sudden awakening.

“minhyun,” he calls, shaking the slumbering royal to his waking. “wake up,”

the emperor simply groans, turning so his face is buried on his lover’s stomach, keen on not being disturbed further.

“come _on_ ,” seongwoo whines, a pout obvious in his tone. “it’s the first snow.”

there’s an age-old legend; watch the first snow with a special someone and true love will bloom between the two. it is rather corny, seongwoo thinks, but he always did have a penchant for _corny_ , and there is nothing he wants more at the moment than to share the first snow with his beloved emperor.

“why do you even bother,” there is no malice in minhyun’s quip, but his apathy makes the scholar pout like a petulant baby. his arms wrap around seongwoo’s waist, seeking warmth.

“but—the first—”

“i already love you.”

to the empire, the emperor is a man of many sides.

to seongwoo, the emperor is a man who thankfully, unbelievably, loves him back.

“yah!” seongwoo’s cheeks flush up to the tip of his ears. “ _hwang minhyun!_ ”

the emperor simply chuckles at the outburst, before falling back into the land of dreams.

 

* * *

 

the sound of heavy breathing bounces against the four ornate walls. a lamp serves as their only illumination, its flickering light casting shadows upon their barely dressed forms. seongwoo and minhyun stand in front of each other, down to their last layers of clothing with nothing but a foot to separate their ethereal figures.

summer is not until after a moon, yet seongwoo feels unbearably warm even with the spring time chill.

one step. minhyun takes one step forward, and seongwoo swallows his heart back down unto his chest. the advisor takes a small step back, but the emperor is keen in his pursuit, his gaze filled with the heat of a forest fire, and it isn’t long until seongwoo finds himself backed against a wall.

“minhyun—"

it began as innocent kissing, nothing out of their usual. but for reasons unbeknownst to him, minhyun was a tad more aggressive that night, almost to the point that he could feel his lips bruise from the intensity of their osculation. the last straw was when minhyun’s teeth grazed against his bottom lip, and he fell on his back, the emperor coming along with him.

that was where he saw _it._

“why do you even own those kinds of books?” seongwoo inquires, still as teasing as ever despite the nerves that place his voice a pitch higher than normal. “an _emperor_ , with such inappro—"

“don’t question your emperor,” minhyun commands, and seongwoo has no choice but to gulp his question down.

with an arch of his neck, minhyun shrugs off the thin white robe, and he stands, bare and naked under the dim lights. seongwoo’s eyes grow wide at the immaculate sight, his gaze roaming over the sculpted muscles, tight and toned to perfection. unconsciously, his tongue darts out to wet his drying lips, and he finds himself at a loss for words, under the complete mercy of his majesty.

“nothing to say?” the emperor motions with a smirk, his hands making quick work of seongwoo’s own robe, the flimsy fabric sliding down to the woven floor. seongwoo shakes his head, mouth agape and barely blinking, half-sure that the current moment is nothing but a vivid dream.

except, the lips that come crashing on his own feel much too real, the arms around his neck to pull him close feel much too true, and seongwoo’s eyes flutter shut so he could focus on _feeling_.

 

***

 

seongwoo has seen his emperor and his many faces, but tonight, under the dim lights of a flickering light, he thinks that he is most beautiful, flushed and panting under his form.

“s- _seongwoo_ ,” minhyun moans, out of breath, as seongwoo thrusts into him with a steady rhythm. his nails leave marks down his advisor’s back, his head lolling back in pleasure.

with a low groan, seongwoo dives down and bites the soft skin on minhyun’s exposed neck. the emperor whines from the pain and pleasure, his long legs wrapping around seongwoo’s torso, ankles locked with every intent of never _ever_ letting go.

“more,” minhyun demands in between his pants, his hands and fingers a frenzy on seongwoo’s back. seongwoo feels powerless to turn down the command. “give me _more_.”

they reach their climax like this, entangled in each other, unsure of where one begins and where one ends. seongwoo swears he could see constellations, but he thinks that the stars are dull compared to the sheen on minhyun’s skin, the wanton glaze in his dark hues. he rests his forehead against his lover’s, gasping and panting as he descends from the orgasmic high.

“ _you’re beautiful_ ,” is the first thing that seongwoo says when he remembers how to breathe.

a low groan rumbles on minhyun’s throat, feeling too weak to even retaliate.

“like a _fairy_?” he asks, teasing despite his wrecked state. he inches close, his nose bumping with the tip of seongwoo’s own. “and here i thought you were never going to call me a fairy anymore.”

“i’m not,” seongwoo banters, his arm pulling the emperor against his figure. “but you are always beautiful as you are.”

 

***

 

it is deep at night when minhyun finally leaves seongwoo’s chambers, his robes haphazardly worn as he sneaks back to his own room. his legs ache and he feels sore to his bones, but his heart soars amidst the dull ache, his mind afloat with fresh memories of the encounter.

“ _hwang minhyun_.”

the sound of a harsh slap disturbs the evening’s silence. minhyun’s hand shakes as he cradles his cheek in a vain effort for comfort.

before him is the dowager queen, her eyes filled with ruthless fury.

minhyun thinks that the disappointment etched on his mother’s face is more painful than the throb on his swelling cheek.

“you think _i_ didn’t know?” the queen accuses, and minhyun wants nothing more than to shrink into the floorboards. “i’ve been aware of your little _dalliance_ for so long but i stayed mum because i never thought that it would come to _this_.”

her judging gaze pierces like knives on minhyun’s disheveled figure. minhyun feels his ears grow warm from shame, so he pulls his robes close, his fingers grabbing tight at the wrinkled silk.

“i _thought_ you would grow up.”

“mother—" minhyun attempts for a defense, but the dowager queen is much quicker.

“does the empire not matter to you?”

the emperor’s knees almost give from the blow of the query, but he holds on to his last bit of regal pride. he searches his conscious for answers, for a proper reply, but he comes up with none.

“you are an _emperor_ ,” the queen takes his silence as a signal to continue. minhyun’s brows are stitched against his forehead, his heart weighted down by every word. “an emperor must be joined by his _queen_. an emperor must provide an heir to secure the future of the throne.”

minhyun knows she is right, but he cannot find it in himself to agree with the sentiment. he attempts to, his eagerness to please remaining stark, but he is halted by the haunting vision of his lover, his handsome visage being the perfect picture of a most broken heart.

“i will make sure that you will not dishonor this empire no longer.”

his mother leaves him with the ultimatum, and minhyun falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, bitter tears running down his cheek as he painfully tries to keep himself breathing.

 

* * *

“this is a time for _celebration_.”

the dowager queen stands in the middle of court, her presence commanding. beside her is a girl seongwoo has never seen before, but the rich pinks and purples in her choice of dress is enough to tell him that she is a royal of sorts. her gaze, seongwoo notes, lingers upon the emperor, but minhyun spares no glance towards her direction, his eyes trained upon his own mother.

“the princess of the neighboring kingdom has agreed to our offer,” the queen proudly announces, and it is there that the girl—the _princess_ —offers a curtsy. “you will be _married_ once the winter turns into spring.”

seongwoo blinks in an attempt to make sense of what he hears.

_married?_

a heavy weight begins to sink down on his chest, but he schools his expression to that of utter nonchalance, his gaze directed, instead, towards the sitting emperor.

minhyun, in turn, speaks no words to deny or acknowledge the sudden claim.

“do you not have anything to say?” the queen pushes, her glare turning grave. seongwoo feels like his knees are about to give way, but the tension in the room allows him no movement. “this is a most _advantageous_ move—the peace of the empire will be ensured for many generations.”

the emperor remains silent. the queen does not look happily upon his insolence. the newly-betrothed princess turns smaller and smaller, made mum by the heaviness of the atmosphere.

seongwoo’s fists are clenched, tight against either side of his rigid form.

“i will give you time to process this information,” seongwoo thinks that the queen has felt that she is fighting a losing battle. minhyun’s face, though beautiful, remains cold and unmoving. “for now, i will give this lovely maiden a tour of our castle.”

the attendants move to prepare for such, the doors to the throne room sliding with a creak.

“i do hope you show her the same _hospitality_ after you are done.”

the doors close with a thud, and seongwoo finally regains the ability to breathe.

“your maje—"

“in the gardens,” the emperor interrupts, breaking his cold silence. “meet me in the gardens.”

 

***

 

the foliage is almost at its most luscious, the leaves a bright shade of emerald green. the birds chirp to a summertime melody, harmonizing with the dry breeze that blows within the empire.

seongwoo hears none of it. in his head, a million voices are screaming.

“so,” his eyes fall upon a yellow camellia. “we were found out.”

beside him, minhyun is silent, his answer coming in a slow nod.

“ _when_?” seongwoo asks, and he winces at how broken, how betrayed he sounds. “why didn’t you tell me?”

the emperor turns to face his lover before he speaks. “because i—"

“it’s _okay,_ ” the advisor interrupts, a bitter smile playing upon his lips as he speaks. “i _understand._ you’re an emperor. in your guise, i am but a—"

“my _advisor_ ,” minhyun cuts, and the confidence in his tone makes seongwoo quiver. “my better half. my _lover_.” a pause. “you are everything to me and _more_ , seongwoo.”

there is a plea in the emperor’s eyes that makes seongwoo want to burst out crying. the wind makes the trees dance to their rhythm, and seongwoo cannot help but think that he is the same in the face of the inevitable, in the face of what has been written.

“let’s elope.”

seongwoo blinks at the sudden suggestion. “minhyun—"

“we can escape in the night,” the emperor continues, his eyes filled with manic determination. “i know the underground mazes by heart. we can set out to sea and find a new place to—"

“ _minhyun_ —"

“i can contact the ferrymen in advance without getting caught,” seongwoo looks at his lover with furrowed brows, his head shaking constant no’s with every word. “we can still be—"

“no.” seongwoo puts a hand against minhyun’s cheek, his tone gentle but with finality. “ _no._ ”

“no?” the first tear rolls down minhyun’s cheek. “but _why_? do you—"

“there are so many people who _need_ you as much as i do,” seongwoo’s gaze is soft, his thumb swiping the tears that fall from minhyun’s almond hues. his thoughts roam towards the many times he’s stood in court, to the citizens who look their emperor as if he was the most giving deity the heavens have blessed them with. “so many people who need your aid.”

“but,” more tears stream down the emperor’s cheek, and each drop is a stab to the advisor’s young heart. “but i need you—" his choked tone comes barely above a whisper. “ _i need you_.”

“i _know_ ,” seongwoo tries his best to remain smiling despite the first pricks of tears peeking through the rim of his dark hues. “but as your advisor, please listen to me when i say that i’m not worth your empire’s entire future.”

“seongwoo—" sorrow paints minhyun’s features, but seongwoo kisses him before he could protest his litany. minhyun’s hands clutch at his back, pulling him close with each desperate exchange.

under the heat of the summertime sun, seongwoo holds his dearest emperor tightly, and his heart quivers with the fear that once he lets go, everything will break into bitter nothings.

“my heart is forever yours,” minhyun vows between kisses. “ _my heart is forever yours_.”

“as is mine, minhyunnie,” seongwoo answers, chasing after each osculation. “as is mine.”

 

* * *

 

it is hours before dawn. the candlelight flickers inside the hidden chamber, casting shadows against four ornate walls. seongwoo and minhyun lie on the mattress, their skin bare underneath the thin sheets. in the soft glow of the low light, their figures resemble a renaissance piece. outside, the leaves rustle with the dry summer wind; a dull harmony to their shared silence. a moon has passed since the betrothal, and it is getting harder and harder for the pair to spend time with each other.

“minhyun,” it is seongwoo who first speaks, his fingers lazily drawing patterns on the emperor’s scalp. minhyun stirs, whining as he nuzzles further against the crook of his advisor’s neck.

“it’s _barely_ been an hour,” he groans, brows furrowing from being awoken. “go back to sleep.”

seongwoo traces a line from the top of minhyun’s head down to his shoulder.

“i’m going overseas,” he begins, eyes trained towards the high ceiling, noting how the castle has worn with age. “the meister says that it would be good to continue my scholarly works there.”

minhyun’s eyes go wide at the sudden revelation. “ _what?_ ”

“i will be travelling to the west to pursue higher studies,” seongwoo continues, never daring to look at the emperor for fear of wavering on an already made decision. his fingers press against the soft skin on minhyun’s waist, and he prays that it will be enough to soothe his frazzled lover. “a new advisor will come in the next moon.”

“no,” minhyun’s refusal is final, his arm pulling seongwoo close as he burrows against his bare chest. “you’re not going anywhere— _you_ are my advisor, and no one else.”

seongwoo shuts his eyes tight, but it useless against the sound of a heart that is breaking.

“it will be good for me,” he motions, full of feigned belief. “i’m too _young_ to be an advisor. too naïve,” his tone is as bitter as the tears he is trying his best to not let fall. “too _green_.”

“ _no_ ,” the emperor argues, brows furrowed as he sits up from the mattress, his hues narrowed at his lover who refuses to even give him one look. “you’re _lying_. it is not in your heart to leave.”

his lover is right, as always and as will be, but seongwoo makes no move to let it be known.

“it’s my _mother_ , isn’t it?” minhyun accuses, but he is met by nothing but guilty silence.

seongwoo still hasn’t spared a glance at his beloved.

there is movement, the sound of crumpling sheets, but he keeps his eyes shut in fear of whatever.

“how much time do we have left?” he hears minhyun ask.

“not much,” he answers, before finally, _finally_ , daring a peek at the moment.

he sees minhyun, his pale white skin glowing with the flicker of the candle light. with a graceful move, he finds himself straddled between the emperor’s thighs, the latter grabbing his hands with gentle command and placing them atop, splayed on his toned, bare chest.

seongwoo swears he could cry at the vision. he almost does.

“the sun isn’t up,” minhyun purrs, guiding one of seongwoo’s hands up, _up_ , until his palms are pressing against the nape of his neck. the descent is slow, agonizing, and the advisor watches with intent, unblinking until the emperor’s lips are hovering over his. 

“we can still pretend that we have all the time in the world.”

in the low light, he spies the first drops of tears peering through minhyun's eyelids.

it is hours before dawn. the candlelight flickers inside the hidden chamber, casting shadows against four ornate walls. with the hypnotic taste of minhyun’s lips, the sensual movement of his tongue against his, seongwoo can believe that time is a deity who knows how to wait.

 

* * *

 

the night sky is dark, but it glimmers with the brightest of stars.

it's a habit of his— _stargazing_ —and tonight is not an exception. seongwoo's eyes reflect the majesty of the sky above, his lips parting every once in a while to recite a recognizable formation's name from the tome inscribed in his memory. minhyun lies on his lap, gazing at a different constellation; at the careful arrangement of little moles that dot seongwoo's cheek.

seongwoo doesn't notice this, not until much later, but his ears could rival the silk that clothe his lover's back the moment he does. minhyun simply grins at his embarrassment—the tight-lipped grin that makes his eyes disappear into little slits, makes his nose scrunch up in the way seongwoo adores, and it does nothing to ease the redness and heat forming on his cheeks.

seongwoo is an advisor, and minhyun is the emperor that he is tasked to serve, the emperor he's devoted his life to in more ways than one. but tonight, like in the nights that came before, their labels are nothing but labels, their titles are nothing but titles. here, they are just two young boys, lying down on the grass to gaze at the beauty of the starlit skies.

tonight, he is ong seongwoo, a man in love with hwang minhyun. tonight, he is ong seongwoo, a man hwang minhyun loves.

tomorrow, minhyun is to wed the princess of their neighboring kingdom and seongwoo is to travel overseas for his scholarly studies.

"are you _sad_?" minhyun asks, his finger connecting the dainty marks that could deem seongwoo's visage as a galaxy. "you seem sad, my love."

"of _course_ i am sad," seongwoo parrots, his fingers absent-mindedly threading into the darkness of minhyun's hair. "this is the end for us, isn't it?"

"only if you think it to be." minhyun rises from seongwoo's lap, gracefully arranging his clothes as he sits beside his advisor, leaning his head upon the crook of his shoulder before going on with his litany. "in fact, i'd rather consider this as a new _beginning_."

seongwoo turns and looks at his dearest, a brow quirked in inquisition. "that's a rather optimistic take on it."

"well i'd rather be an optimist than sulk, dear." minhyun chuckles. seongwoo thinks that of everything minhyun does, this would be what he will miss the most.

silence, the comfortable kind, engulfs the distance between them. minhyun lets his hand travel atop seongwoo's own, and seongwoo gives it a squeeze as he laces their fingers together. for a while, the only sounds that could be heard are the soft beats of their troubled hearts, pattering along with the cacophony of the crickets that sing for their final night.

"i'm going to miss you," seongwoo is the one who breaks the silence, his tone grave and dismal. "i'm _already_ missing you, if i were being honest."

minhyun removes himself from seongwoo's side in favor of taking his face in his soft hands. "you're always honest, darling. but right now, you are _wrong_."

confusion paints seongwoo's features, and minhyun takes it as his cue to continue his speech.

"i am not missing from you," he gives his lover's face a little squeeze, giggling a bit as seongwoo's features scrunch into something more amusing. "i am here. always am. always will be."

"but—"

minhyun cuts him off with an abrupt kiss. the usual sweetness is still there, but seongwoo mostly tastes longing, hurt, desperation—every emotion minhyun refuses to show on his beautiful face.

"we'll be together," minhyun volunteers, the surety in his voice marking it as half a promise. "maybe not in this life, but i'm sure it won't be our last."

"minhyun—"

" _please_."

a single tear falls from the emperor's hues, and seongwoo's heart breaks as it slides from his tear duct to his cheek. this time, it is him who pulls minhyun in for another liplock, his hands shaking as they hold minhyun's shoulders, his fingers clutching tight at the expensive silk. this, seongwoo thinks, is the closest they will ever be before the inevitable arrives.

"look for me in our next life, seongwoo," minhyun pleads, his lips shivering against seongwoo's tan skin. "don't stop—" a choked sob. "—don't stop until you find me."

 

***

 

they do not part until it is moments before daybreak. minhyun leans heavily against seongwoo’s shoulder, eyes red and swollen from the tears he has shed. he says it is better to return to the castle when the swelling has subsided, but both of them know it’s only an excuse to justify borrowed time.

the rustling of silk interrupts the silence of the night. seongwoo scampers inside of his pockets and fishes out an ornate box. minhyun’s eyes widen at what lay inside; identical rings of gleaming silver, shining underneath the brightness of the moonlight.

“ _no_ —” the emperor begins to protest, disbelief etched across his features, but seongwoo interrupts his doubts by slipping one band on his ring finger.

“think of it as a promise—no,” the scholar gives him the other ring, offering his hand for minhyun to return the favor. “think of it as my _oath_.”

“ _seongwoo_ —” minhyun’s tone is half a plea. “you don’t—”

“i will look for you in every lifetime,” seongwoo’s syllables drip with hardened resolve. minhyun hesitates, but the look in seongwoo’s hues push him to finally slip the band on his lover’s delicate digit. fresh tears run down minhyun’s cheek, but seongwoo cradles his face, wiping the wetness away with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

“ _i will not stop until i find you_.”

overhead, a star gleams its brightest. a supernova explodes from light years away. 

back on earth, seongwoo kisses minhyun with the passion of a thousand dying suns.

 

* * *

 

white clouds hang low on the horizon, the blues of the sea and the sky meeting at a perfect center. seongwoo stands on the ship’s wooden deck, his arms folded and resting against the protective railing. there is a sharp gust of wind and his nose scrunches from the light spray of the ocean air. seagulls fly overhead, their cries harmonizing with the soft sway of the blue sea.

it is the tail-end of winter, and the sun is beginning to peek from where it slumbers. golden rays filter from the gloom above, and seongwoo watches how it makes the ring on his finger glow.

(back in the empire, the attendants begin to cloak minhyun with the layers of his traditional wedding garb. they notice the ring that hung from a simple chain on his neck, asks if he could remove it in favor of something more fitting for royalty.

he shakes his head no.

“for good luck,” he quips, and the attendants press for no other answer.)

 _“a lover boy_?”

an unfamiliar voice asks, and seongwoo looks over his shoulder to see that it is an old man posing the question. like him, the bearded fellow is wearing a more western ensemble, with a suit, pants and a coat for warmth. for a moment, the scholar is confused at the moniker used to address him, but the ring on his finger glints like a reminder, and his ears grow red from the implication.

“i am right, aren’t i?” the old man’s smirk is knowing, yet seongwoo finds a bit of comfort in his act. “with a face like yours, i’m sure the lass you left on shore is in tears.”

seongwoo snorts for congeniality, giving a vague smile as an answer. he left the empire before his emperor could even wake from his slumber.

“i assume you plan to _return,_ then?” the old man prods on, leaning on the railing beside him. “what makes you think everything will be the same when you do?”

(today, the empire is rowdy with their celebrations. their beloved emperor, their beautiful ruler who is as ethereal as the seasons is to be wed to the eldest daughter of the nearby kingdom. the bond is both symbolic and beneficial, and fortune tellers already sing about their future of peace.

minhyun is solemn in his carriage, his visage ever immaculate. the sun’s rays bounce on the little side opening, momentarily illuminating the ring that peeks underneath his many robes.

outside, the citizens cheer for the matters of his heart.

“ _long live the emperor_!” they yell. they do not know that his life has already been sworn to a man travelling to sea.)

“it won’t be,” seongwoo fiddles with the ring on his finger, his expression forlorn.

the old man quirks a brow, surprised by his rather blunt confession. “that _tragic_ , my boy?”

seongwoo rewards his query with a small snort. “this is not our time, i think.”

a pause. the old man continues to look at him, searching his features for any answers that have gone unsaid.

“but,” seongwoo turns back towards the sea, his eyes trained towards the wide horizon. a morning star winks like a premonition, a blessing.  “i’ll try again until it _is_.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello, miss catastrophes!
> 
> ~~apologies if i'm sending you an incomplete gift. life is hectic, as we all know. but i'll finish this before the end of this week, or maybe even the day after this, if life becomes as nice to me as your way with brunches and what not. a full dedication shall also be done by then, but for now, please enjoy the first half of your present, and thank you for the opportunity to write this for you.~~
> 
> it is done. i know you told me not to rush this, but it pained me to publish this as an incomplete work in an effort to meet the deadline. this work is best read as a whole, not in parts, so when you do look at this again, i do wish that you reread it as recommended for the full effect. i know that you like slice of life and that i had jess bother you for prompts, and i'm sorry that none of them appear here. but my writing style, as distinct as it is, is best suited for things that require a touch of magic.
> 
> but i digress. when jess revealed to me who my giftee will be, i was filled with an intense sense of panic because i know you are quite hard to please. so i do hope that you enjoy this, despite the cliches, the tired tropes, and the overused theme. i know that that work of mine is what you like the most from my repertoire, so i hope this humble expansion fits your taste.
> 
> again, thank you for the opportunity for ~~forcing~~ letting me write this. it's the perfect fic to resign from the cult with.
> 
> xoxo  
> still anonymous, and still hoping you're pretending you have no clue who this is.
> 
> to jess:
> 
> i will never believe that i am anybody's favorite writer, but this event, at least, made it feel that way.  
> happy birthday, you fabulous grandma. you owe me cuddles. lots of it. xx.
> 
> to everyone who held my hand through the entire painful process of writing this fic, thank you, i'm sorry, and i love you.
> 
> to the cult:  
> it was a pleasure writing for you for this entire year and a half. sadly, this will be my last work dedicated for you. thank you for everything. 
> 
> to everybody else:  
> :)


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